‘Pushing Daisies:’ Yes, I’m drinking the Kool-aid

One of my biggest influences, Roger Ebert, wrote about “Being John Malkovich:”

“What an endlessly inventive movie this is! Charlie Kaufman, the writer of ‘Being John Malkovich,’ supplies a stream of dazzling inventions, twists and wicked paradoxes. And the director, Spike Jonze, doesn’t pounce on each one like fresh prey, but unveils it slyly, as if there’s more where that came from.”

That perfectly describes “Pushing Daisies.”

The show operates on a very simple premise: There’s a pie maker named Ned who with a simple touch has the ability to bring dead things back to life. If he touches them again the thing goes back to its dead state. Yet, if he doesn’t touch again within 60 seconds, something else in the vicinity dies.

How he came to realize his power happened to kill the father of Chuck, the love of his life (she’s a woman). This is Ned’s secret. And it’s that same power that, in the first episode, brought her back to life. Consequently, they fall in love. Tragically, they can’t kiss or hug or even hold hands because if they touch, Chuck will die again.

All of that was introduced in the first episode. “Pushing Daisies” takes that simple premise and explores all of the possibilities of what could happen in that situation. Possibilities you never see coming. Like how Chuck, being completely swept up in the moment, grabs plastic wrap, presses it against Ned’s face and then kisses him.

Each episode is a murder mystery. A police detective named Emerson knows Ned’s secret and has “enlisted” the pie maker to help solve these murders. So there are many conversations with dead people in the show. Emerson isn’t doing this because it’s his civic duty, but because with every murder there’s usually a reward and sometimes little treasures along the way.

What I love about this show is that, despite all that happened and was explained in the first week, the episodes just keep getting better and better. It keeps getting more imaginative. While we may see, among the new shows, another cop show or another remake of a ’70s TV show, “Pushing Daisies” is something you’ve never, ever seen.

For instance, in “Pigeon,” this week’s show, a small propeller airplane crashes into a building right outside Ned’s pie shop. It was hijacked by a one-armed escaped convict. The convict wasn’t just seeking freedom, but the love of his life whom he’s been corresponding with via a carrier pigeon. The pigeon accidentally finds its way into the propeller, which causes the plane to crash. Anyway, the prisoner, Lemuel, finds his love, Elsita. Except those aren’t the names they were writing to. See, Lemuel’s bunkmate Jackson had been writing to Elsa, the mother of Elsita, whom he met while breaking into her windmill home years ago to stash a whole lot of diamonds while running from the authorities. They fell in love in the brief moment they saw each other. Jackson had been writing to Elsa for years. While Jackson and Elsa grew too old to go on with the long-distance romance, they had the closest person to them continue writing the letters. Elsa turned to her daughter, Elsita. Jackson turned to his jail buddy, Lemuel.

The show is awfully clever with its dialogue, too. The story in “Pigeon” resulted in this exchange when Elsita and Lemuel when discovered each other:

“Elsa?”

“I’m Elsita”

“Jackson?”

“I’m Lem.”

“Elsa was my mama.”

“Jackson was my prison bunkmate.”

“Is bunkmate a euphemism for. . .?” (One of Chuck’s aunts asks.)

“Not in this case, ma’am.”

I mentioned Chuck’s aunts. That is perhaps the saddest thread in the show. But I’ll get into that in future blogs.

There’s so much I didn’t cover because there’s so much to cover. After four episodes, it certainly seems like there is more where that came from.